


The Love of a Slave

by StarRose



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Based on the world of the TV series 'Spartacus: War of the Damned.', Charles is his master, Crossover, Erik is a slave, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRose/pseuds/StarRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spartacus attacks the city of Sinuessa, but there is one slave named Erik who will protect his Roman master for all time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love of a Slave

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching Spartacus: War of the Damned, and like everything that isn't Cherik, I turn it into Cherik. This was just a short ficlet I wrote on tumblr that I've decided to upload here.

The city of Sinuessa was filled with blood curdling screams as Spartacus and his hordes raided through the streets, freeing slaves and slaughtering Romans as they went.  Erik peered through the inch gap between the door and the wall seeing fast moving shapes run by, before gripping his sword tightly and standing back in the room, turning to the smaller Roman man sitting with his back against the wall.  He was looking between the door and Erik with a desperate fear in his eyes, for he had every right to be terrified of the monsters that swarmed outside, knowing that if only one of Spartacus’ free men burst through that door they would not hesitate to remove all limbs in the most painful manner possible.

“Do not fear my Dominus, no harm will come to you, I will make sure of it.”

The Roman man, white robes stained with blood splatters where Erik had dragged him through the streets to try and find some hiding spot, turned to the slave who was protecting him.

“My father was Dominus, you have always called me Charles, why now of all times do you name me such?” His voice was breathless, fear gripping tight in his chest as his bright blue eyes turned once more to the door as a woman’s scream rang out close by, followed by the un-mistakable gurgling sounds of her throat being slit.

“Your father is now murdered, my ownership falls to you.” Erik replied, his bare chest covered with an equal splattering of blood and dirt.

“Listen to what is happening out there Erik! This is Spartacus! You are free! By my whim now by choice and by his by force.  You have no reason to be here, turn me in and gain yourself favour with Spartacus.  Have the life the Romans stole from you!”

 In an instant Erik was by his side, kneeling on the cracked stone floor of the grain storage room they were hiding in, eyes clear and sharp, forcing Charles to look upon them.

“It is because of such noble words that I refuse your gift of freedom.” Erik whispered harshly, eyes briefly turning back to the door before leaning even closer to Charles, a breath away from the man. “Do you remember the day we first met, my Dominus? And the many days after?”

Charles did.  He would never forget.  He had only been a boy of 9 when his father had taken him to the slave market, and out of the chained together wild-things that were displayed for them had bought only one boy of 15, Erik, his parents dead by Roman hands and taken to be sold.

The boy really had been wild, and Charles would watch him being trained, punished, trained again, punished again, looking through the thick barred gates leading into the yard of the Ludas. Charles had been so fascinated by this boy, one who was gradually turning into a gladiator as they both grew, and over time Charles would strike up conversation with him through the bars on the gladiators short breaks between training.

Without either of them knowing a kindred friendship had blossomed between them, though they would never seem more than a Roman and a slave, even between themselves.  Charles’ father had found out, but instead of being angered had taken Erik out of the Ludas giving him new position in the Villa as Charles’ bodyguard, recent times having rumour of rebellion with a distant name of Spartacus riding on the winds from the south.  

Though Erik too was slave, Charles’ father knew, could feel it in his very bones, that Erik would never betray Charles. Even if he wished death on every other Roman in the world for murdering his parents, Charles would be the only one safe.

For the almost 2 years it has taken for Spartacus to finally raid this city, Erik had not left Charles’ side for one second of time.  Charles had shown kindness Erik did not know any Roman could show.  He found him an enigma, telling himself he was only forcing friendship because it was what was expected of him, a fake friendship he could perhaps use to his advantage one day, but it was impossible to have anything faked with his man.  The feelings he had for his Dominus’ son, this ‘Charles’ that he was told so often to call him by first name, they were true to his heart.

Charles would teach him his knowledge of the world, would show him the most beautiful and fascinating things, works of art and stories of far off lands, that Erik began to find his anger at the Romans fading, and found himself beginning to feel extremely comfortable with the life he lived.  Peace, it was something he had never known, and even though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was still a slave, knew he was still ‘ _owned_ ‘…it didn’t feel like it.

Sometimes he wondered if Charles even forgot that Erik was his slave. Occasionally on nights when Charles would bathe, Erik always watching and guarding, Charles would gracefully drop his robes to the floor stepping naked into the water and would turn, offering a hand to Erik, that gentle smiling face holding a genuine offer of “Come bathe with me.”

Erik would always decline, Romans do not bathe with slaves, and if not only for his own wish of no punishment for over stepping boundaries, he did not want Charles to get in trouble either.

Still, it did not mean he did not wish it, to share the same water as one who had shown him that Romans were also…human.  Gentle, kind, loving, everything Erik had not known existed in Romans he had found in Charles.  Not to mention a beauty he could not deny he was attracted to.  Standing there watching the lesser slaves pass wet cloths over Charles’ arms where he sat in the water, his unblemished, un-scarred skin glistening with moisture, so clean and pure, like skin Erik’s own scarred rough covering would never possess. How he wanted to be the one to do that, to feel that perfection against his fingertips, to see closer how the moonlight from the large rectangular cut on the roof above made those eyes glisten just like his skin.Those eyes would meet his sometimes, locked together as the oblivious slaves continued to clean their master.

Charles’ legs would shift under the clear water at their exchanged gaze.

It was because of all these reasons and more, like Charles now demanding he himself be sacrificed so Erik may lead a better life, that made it impossible for Erik to leave him.

“Do you remember the life you have given me?” Erik pressed once more, and Charles nodded slowly, those steel grey eyes boring into his own.

“I do.”

Erik let a faint loving smile grace his lips, “Then you know no force on this earth will remove me from your side.”

His callous hands bloody and filthy, Erik raised them to Charles’ cheeks and cupped his face, taking his lips with a sudden movement that turned soft the moment they touched, though not for long.  Perhaps spurred on by the screams that were closing distance the kiss became heated, Charles responding like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment to happen, both of them knowing that was true. As though mapping a place he may never get a chance to visit again Erik claimed Charles’ mouth so forcefully,  memorising every swipe of tongue, every placement of tooth, drowning in every moan that he had always wanted to hear rise from his masters chest.

Charles’ hands groped at Erik’s chest, his body burning with a desire kept hidden for so many years, fingers sliding through the blood that was not Erik’s own.  Just as quickly as it had started though Erik suddenly pulled away, placing one far too delicate kiss for such a time to his forehead before standing up straight, taking his sword from its holster and turning to the door.

He had stood just in time, for at that moment the heavy door was ripped open, four of Spartacus’ free men drenched in blood and screaming for victory advancing towards Charles, paying no mind to the fellow slave standing nearby.

They did not get far before the slave slid in between them and their prey, sword raised to shoulder level, its sharpened point staring the first man directly in the face, nose to tip.  The four men stopped, laughed, then one exclaimed:

“What is this?! You are free my friend, stand aside and let us finish these Roman devils together!”

Erik’s answer was a growl rumbling from the very depths of his heart;

“Any man who gives harm to my Dominus…will find their head removed from their shoulders.”

 The End


End file.
